The Strange Case Of Emily Campbell And Katie Fitch
by VioletW
Summary: Something is wrong with Emily. Both she and Naomi are blissfully unaware, but Katie knows something. She has stayed silent about it all, as it's been something of a benefit for her; until one day it all unravels. What happens when Katie has had enough of sharing with Emily?
1. Chapter 1

_**Well, this is unexpected. I'm not one to have three things - let alone STORIES - on the go. But, this one just kind of... spewed out of me? It's 3am and my brain wouldn't let me sleep until I got this out. Curiosity won't kill the cat here, so read away my lovely friends :)**_

**9:30am.**

You wake with a start - though that's how it seems to happen every morning - as you wipe the sleep from your eyes. You glance around the room, and you know right away that Naomi has gone to work. You can tell, because that musky smell of coffee is faint, and her side of the bed is made up; crisp and unbroken. You've lived together nearly three years now, and you've never been happier.

You met in Uni, and it was both the happiest, and the most stressful time of your life. She was never one for labels, as you came to know. She had never been one for relationships, either. You laugh at the memory of the day you finally had the courage to talk to her, how you had accidentally ended up at the same bar as her on campus. You'd had a shit day, and felt like drinking; alone. But as you walked into the pub, you saw her alone as well, talking to some guy at the bar who looked less-than-pleased with the direction of their conversational course. She must have been telling him off in a way too complicated for him to understand, as you watched the slow departure of the man. There was a brow furrow, a 'look around', a hesitant back-step; and the most confused face on a walking man you'd ever seen as he almost plowed you over. You stifled a laugh as you watched her, an aura of both sparkling fireflies and darkness engulfed the blonde at the bar. You took a confident seat next to her - grazing her arm with yours as you did so - and ordered a shot of their strongest whiskey. You heard her scoff next to you, so you confidently decided to indulge the girl. Turns out she didn't think you could handle your liquor. _You proved her wrong that night. _The most memorable part of that night, though? When she let it slip just how cynical and lonely she was. The words 'We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not' rang through your ears like the screams of an Undine that night, as it seemed quoting Orson Welles was the only thing in her world that made sense. And in that moment, you vowed to make sure that neither of you ended up as alone as that statement.

You both moved away together right after graduation. Shortly there after, you got married; a small ceremony in Fiji with a few close friends. It was beautiful - getting married in the sand while the water swayed for you - the volcano in the background was booming with radiance. It was simple, exactly what you wanted. neither of you wanted to go the traditional or elaborate route, so wedding dresses and expensive, useless pleasantries were cast out of your plans. Instead you both wore over-sized tanks, hers was the light purple color of the orchids that grow along the Anvil Coast; yours the color of Atacamite. A few folding chairs for your guests, the musical stylings of Lana Del Rey, and before you knew it, your name changed from Fitch to Campbell and you were being carried by Naomi; only to be thrown into the ocean a few seconds later. Naomi landed a well paying architecture job right out of the gates - which paid for the wedding, and the honeymoon - that allows you to stay home and paint. You hated the idea at first - staying home and not contributing to the bills - but Naomi is nothing if not generous. All she's ever wanted was you, and she makes more than enough money for four people combined._ Her words, not yours. _You tried to get a part-time job, but for some reason you were unable to keep it. You attribute that failure to your sleeping habits, because after Uni, you had a hard time sleeping. Your schedule was off, you were irritable; you had blackouts. Some are worse than others - some last longer than others - and you know you still have them; but you won't dare tell Naomi that. You wonder if you sleep walk too, because you wake up so sore in the mornings; like you've run a marathon or gone clubbing all night to no recollection.

You stretch all the kinks out of your body one by one, starting with your torso and working your way down your legs, and up to your neck. You have this routine every morning, because it loosens you up. You think, if you sleep walk, Naomi would have noticed by now. So maybe you tense your body when you sleep, and you've made a doctors appointment to figure it all out. You've grown unhappy with the pain and exhaustion, unable to bear it any longer, so you scheduled the appointment for next month. Sleeping tests are not easy to obtain, and going through Naomi's occupation doctor was the only way to get in. You beg the doctor to keep the information confidential - especially from your wife - when you make the appointment. He is hesitant, but complies, because you convince him that Naomi already knows; and she is the reason you have his number. Granted, it was a big fat lie, but she is too busy to have to worry about something as silly as a sleeping test. She hasn't mentioned anything, so clearly whatever is going on doesn't seem to affect her. _You are grateful._

Your days are always the same. Wake up at half past nine, shower at ten. Breakfast at half past ten, painting starts at eleven. Lunch at two p.m. - usually fruit or vegetables - then meet Naomi at the park for a run at four o'clock. She never works late, and you manage to get several hours together at the end of the day. Sadly, she is usually in bed by nine p.m. because she wakes at five, but you've come to enjoy it. You go to bed with her and watch her sleep, and you feel it doesn't take you long before you fall asleep with her. You hate that your routine differs from hers, as you've always wanted to wake up and surprise her with breakfast, but your body won't allow it. _Hopefully, that will all change soon. _

;

;

You meet Naomi in the park, and you can't help but notice it is one lovely day. You spot her right away, in her dark blue tee shirt and black running shorts, stretching out on a bench just a little ways from your current position. And you still can't believe this woman is yours, with her perfectly slender frame and her sunny blonde hair. As you near her, you see the white wires around her neck, indicating she is in her own little world of music. And you imagine it must be ringing about in there with the calming melody of her - and coincidentally your - favourite song. The one that played aloud on your wedding day, the one you had your first dance to as a married couple, the one that echoed in your very bones when she held you so gently; the one that mirrored the emotions you felt for Naomi all these years. If Naomi's eyes could talk that night - or any other night, actually - they would shout every lyric of that song from the highest rooftops of the world.

_Will you still love me, when I'm no longer young and beautiful. Will you still love me, when I've got nothing but my aching soul._

You relish this moment, of her in that world, because she looks so peaceful. So comfortable, like the endless days of conformity she has to endure need not exist here. You know how much she hates wearing designer suits to work, how she is much happier in a blouse and hard hat, but her high position doesn't allow for it. This is her, the real Naomi that you know and love, and she is only seen this way by you. Vulnerable, lovely, and true.

When you reach her, her stunning blue eyes are upon you, and it still makes your warm all over. That smile she's wearing - the one that reaches her ears - that one is yours. It's only ever for you, and when she takes an earphone out to greet you, you launch yourself into her arms. Your kisses are always passionate, even when it's a chaste kiss Hello. She holds you in her arms, and her eyes scream adoration for you. You imagine your eyes mirror the same, because there has only ever been you and her. It's a lovely place to be, in her arms, and you never want to be anywhere else.

She is much better at this running thing than you, her long legs allow for that. But she always matches your speed, never out doing you with the need to show off. This is a time you both enjoy, quietly running through life silent and side by side. The air is brisk, and the leaves have started to shed from the trees. You can hear the crunching beneath your feet, and you smile; because those same leaves are crunching beneath Naomi's feet. You intake cool air sharply into your lungs, as you take in the beauty autumn has to bring. Vibrant yellows and oranges invade your vision, along with the intoxicating blues of Naomi's eyes. She runs with music, but you much prefer to hear what is going on around you. The traffic, the birds; the heavy breaths Naomi takes are like music to your ears, anyway. The run only lasts about thirty minutes, as you both seem to get in about four laps of the park before exhaustion takes you over. Thankfully her parkade is a few blocks from the park, so as you both stagger to catch your breath, Naomi decides to break the silence.

"You seem really tired lately, Em. Maybe you should take it easy."

You furrow your brow in response. "I don't work for a living, Naomi. I sit at home and paint. I have to do _something_ or I'll end up a useless sloth."

She laughs at your words, you imaging she is picturing the scenario you've described.

"Sloths are cute, but not as cute as you." She teases, as you lightly smack her arm.

"I know you have troubles sleeping," She says seriously. "Maybe you should see a doctor?"

"I will." You smile, as you take one last drink of water and kiss her cheek.

"Let's go home, yeah?"

The walk to the car is peaceful, as is every moment you spend with Naomi. You walk hand in hand, and listen eagerly as she talks to you about her day. You laugh when she mentions Cook, the workplace joker that never stops trying it on with her. Normally that would bother you, but you've met Cook, and through all his vulgarity and crude humour, you know he would never hurt you or Naomi; let alone _actually_ pursue her. Plus, you trust Naomi, and you know she would never cheat on you. Harmless banter between a twat and a wanker is what you've summed it up to be; _who is who? You'll never tell._ She tells you about the cheesy pick-up line he used on the new girl today, and wonder if you should either laugh or cringe at the reference to Rapunzel letting down her hair from a _completely _different part of her body than you remember from the fairy tale story.

"Did it work?" You ask seriously, and you are surprised when she responds to you; just as serious.

"Yes."

You stop dead in your tracks, and have to pull on her arm to stop her from continuing on. She jerks lightly with the tug of your arm, and turns around.

"What?"

"You're having a fucking laugh?" you ask.

"I wish I was. Thought the girl was quite clever when I hired her."

You both decide to laugh then, at the absurdity of the scenario. It seems some girls loose bushels of IQ points when it comes to the male gender.

"Do you think we should get a bigger car?" You ask, as the distance to Naomi's blue 2014 RS5 Cabriolet - one of the sexiest accessories Naomi possesses, and of course; shares generously with you - gets shorter.

"Huh?" She grunts. "Why?"

"I dunno..." You supply coyly "Maybe if we need a back seat."

Naomi isn't getting the hint, and it's not a surprise to you. You find her naivety about you rather endearing.

"One of the benefits of your pocket size? You seem to do alright climbing over the gear shift." Naomi replies playfully, as she leans over and kisses your temple before pulling out her car keys and beeping the alarm.

She opens the door for you - as she does every time - and your words "What if we want family additions?" practically glue Naomi to the spot. She doesn't close your door after you've sat yourself in, and you snap the air in front of her face a few times before she finally comes back to reality.

"You mean..."

"Naomi. Door." You order playfully, as she shakes herself and finally closes your door; sprinting to the drivers side of the car and plops herself in beside you.

"I thought you wanted to wait? Travel the world first?"

"You've mentioned it, and I've thought about it. Wouldn't be so bad? We could raise her to be a nomad like her mums." You smile at her, because the thought warms your heart at how adorable Naomi would be to your child. _Big 'ol push over, you imagine. _

"...Her?" She says after a moment.

"Yes. Panda tells me all the time about what it's like to raise Caelum. Sounds a bit like a horror film to me. Did you know that he has wet dreams every night? She said she has to use heavy duty detergent to un-stiffen his unders."

Naomi chokes hard on your comment, coughing with a face as red as crimson. "Jesus Christ, Em!"

"It's true." You start. "Come on, you have to agree a girl would be in our comfort zone."

"I can't admit that!" Naomi shouts "I didn't even know a _child _was in our comfort zone!"

"Well, you know now." You state evenly.

She looks at you for a moment, as if sorting out her internal monologue before speaking aloud for you to hear. But, knowing Naomi as well as you do, you mine as well have a direct line to her head. You know exactly what she is thinking, and wait patiently for her to sort it out.

"Okay. But we have things to do before hand, okay? You go see a doctor about your sleeping, I'll talk to my boss about family benefits."

You smile widely, and nod in agreement as you lean over and take her soft lips upon your own. You are ready to start your life with Naomi, you are ready for everything she has to offer. All the bumps, all the struggles; you're ready to plunge into the unknown with her for the third time in your life.

;

;

**9:30 pm.**

The sky is dark, and the stars are dancing aimlessly in the blackness of the night. Many people feel this hour of the evening is late to be out on a week night, but you are not like many people. You feel your day is just beginning, and you have extensive plans for the next twelve hours. Electricity flows through you in anticipation, because tonight you are going to that new club that opened up three weeks ago on Main Street. You get out of bed slowly, as not to disturb the sleeping body next to you, and take a few clothes quietly from your closet. Your bare feet gently pad along the cold wood floor as you make your way into the bathroom, closing its door tightly behind you. In a few minutes, you emerge ready for a night out, black leggings on the bottom, gold and black leopard print blouse on the top. A few pieces of loose jewelry around your neck and wrists, some smoky black eye liner; and you are fully prepared to break several hearts. You take your small snake skin clutch and place your cellphone, identification card, fifty quid; and your house keys inside as you close your flat door softly.

You hail a cab with ease, and it takes a few suggestive remarks from you before the driver gets the hint that you are not in the mood to socialize with him. The bar is lit up like Times Square as you near the block. You send the driver some cash as you exit the cab, and walk confidently up to the bouncer as you pull out your ID card. He takes it from you without a word, looks you up and down a few times, before handing you back your card and nodding for you to head inside. You send him a sly smile as you make your way inside; the neon lights and the heavy bass hitting your eyes and body in unison. The beat thumps through your veins in perfect rhythm, and you can hear your breath heavy in your ears, as the resonance of soft words are thrown off the walls in every direction; circling you as you make your way through the crowd into the center of the room.

_Is this gonna be... I can feel the light. Are we in the darkness... I'll follow you._

_I'll follow you._

You find the center, and sway slowly to the beat of the drums. The footsteps of the people above you resound on the metal catwalk, adding to the inscrutable vibe of both the music, and the atmosphere.

_But in the darkness, I'll follow you._

Suddenly, you feel gentle arms wrap around you loosely from behind, and the faint warmth of a body against your back; matching your movements in time with the rhythm your body has set. Their smell invades your nostrils, the intoxicating aroma of B&H Silver mixed with malt whiskey and slightly licorice based perfume leaves you breathless. You turn around to the person behind you, and take in the stunning sight of your suitor. A slightly taller brunette graces your vision, effortlessly perfect waves of hair engulf her porcelain face. Lips as red as blood, eyes as blue as ice. Piercing they are, impaling your heart with such force that it leaves your body humming. Her perfect lips are curled into a seductive smirk, one you know you would never be able to resist even if you wanted to; _and you know you don't want to_. She traces her soft fingertips down your stomach to your waist, as you lift your arms up to circle her neck. You haven't dared to break eye contact with her, for fear that if you blink; she will disappear. Something about this girl seems so perfect, so fragile, so mystical; you have been caught so easily.

The song ends, and some horrendous electro pop song has replaced it. This girl seems to want none of it, as her eyes dance around your face in both amusement, and curiosity.

"Drink?" She says evenly - the faint sound of a question in there somewhere - as she quirks an eyebrow suggestively at you.

You nod - because you can't exactly find any words in your throat - as you follow her to the bar; and your hand is burning from the sensation of her fingers wrapped tightly around your own. You reach the bar in record speed, and take a less than graceful seat on the stool next to the perplexing girl. She orders two shots, whatever it is seems to have completely missed your ears as she hands you a glass and holds her own up to you eagerly.

"Cheers." She proposes, as she clinks your glass gently and downs her shot in one swift motion.

You follow suit - after a moment of bewilderment at her incapacitating beauty - and swallow the warm liquid as the burn engulfs your throat whole. You've managed to catch your breath at the exact moment that she stares into your eyes again, smirk plastered firmly on her lips.

"This is the part where you tell me your name." She says evenly, and her husky tone sends your mind reeling in the direction of an unladylike thought train.

"Katie." You reply after a moment far too long for your liking, as her smile widens; just a fraction. You would have missed it if you weren't studying her so closely.

"Katie..." She rolls your name off her tongue, and this sends a massive heat wave over your skin as you think about how amazing your name sounds coming from her lips, how amazing you think her tongue would _feel_ to you, when she looks you dead in the eye and says:

"I like that."

You find your confidence after a moment, remembering that you can be just as intimidating, as you stare back at her expectantly.

"And you are?"

"Effy." She replies, extending her hand to you in mock surrender. "Effy Stonem."

"Effy..." You mirror her contemplation from earlier, looking to the ceiling momentarily for emphasis. "That's a very odd name."

She laughs genuinely at this, a reaction you would have never expected from the captivating brunette.

"I suppose I've had worse reactions." She replies, chuckling a little throughout the sentence.

"I'll let you off," You start, gaining confidence with each passing word "Because all I can think about right now is _getting_ you off."

This catches her by surprise, though you'd never know it; she's kept stone. She hasn't peeled her arctic blues from you, and after a moment you have a tight grasp on the lapels of her leather jacket as you press your lips to hers. You can feel her smile into the kiss, though you could care less what she does as long as she doesn't pull away or cringe, as she relaxes into the embrace; leaning into you gently.

;

;

You expected the night to pass by in a blur, but it does anything _but _that. In fact, every sensation, every touch, every texture is heightened significantly for you. The feeling matches the steady glow of a strong narcotic, but you are absolutely certain there was no consumption of anything other than alcohol for you. This girl - Effy - it's like _she _is a drug in herself. Every time she touches you, fire shoots across every surface of your organs, every warm exhale of her breath makes the hair on your extremities stand on edge; the soft wetness of her lips on your skin sets you off like an explosive. She is gentle, and passionate; and you've never felt more alive. The night doesn't go by slowly by any means - in fact, you hate how quickly time seems to race around you as you explore every inch of her flawless body. By the first twentieth minute that has passed as you trace over her body with your lips, you have a favourite part of her all picked out. The gentle curve of her hip bone that seems to flex ever so slightly when you kiss her in that secret spot you've discovered.

You fall asleep in her arms, but you never intended to. You can't, it's not something you** _can _**do; but it happens anyway. You've found a spot in her arms, snuggled tightly into the crook of her neck, that seems to fit your silhouette perfectly like the piece of a puzzle. You rest there for hours, her slender arms wrapped protectively around you as her chest rises and falls gently in unison with your own.

In an instant, it is all taken from you; this comfort - this peace. Your phone alarm goes off, indicating it is four thirty in the morning. You open your eyes groggy, and scan the room drowsily; as the urgency registers slowly. Effy stirs next to you, murmuring something along the lines of _'fuck off' _before the panic sets in.

"Fuck!" You exclaim, as you jump out of the bed so fast, Effy wakes with your frantic movements.

"What's wrong?" She asks, concern etched into her features.

"Nothing! I just..." You search the floor for your belongings quickly "I have to get home is all."

"Ooooh." She says, realization dawning on her "You're married?"

"Not exactly." You respond, which confuses Effy for the first time in her life; though you would never know that.

"Okay..." She says this more like a question, but you are fully dressed and don't have time to explain.

"Effy..." You say softly, kneeling over the bed to kiss her on the lips.

"I really like you, yeah? I want to see you again, if that's okay. Here." You extend a small piece of paper, and she takes it from you; not looking away from your eyes as her fingers wrap around the paper tightly.

"Call me, but not before nine thirty at night. I work late, and I'm not allowed any calls. You understand, yeah?"

"'Course." She replies gently. "I'll call you..."

"Tomorrow." You finish, and mentally slap yourself at how eager you sounded.

A wide smile creeps up on her lips then, and for the first time it looks like she's actually _blushing_. But as quickly as it appears, it vanishes as she composes herself and replies:

"Talk to you tomorrow, Katie."

**_I'm really hoping that there is still some kind of mystery here, or at least something you like so far. Let me know, yeah? Just press the little review button down there... _**

**_Thank you for reading! I appreciate you taking time out of your day to read my... insanity._**

**_xoViolet_**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Hi! Thanks for the reviews, the favs, the follows... you are a lovely lot, aren't you? A little random leaving a review saying 'Type your review here..." but I'm going to sum it up to a typo, Guest. Getting feedback from you guys is like someone coming along with free coffee and doughnuts while you're volunteering. Payment, with out the pay, as it were. **_

**9:30am.**

The phone rings, and you consider for a moment that the noise has brought you out of a slumber. A beautiful one, filled with aspirations, or maybe the memories of an old movie. Something about finding a magical wardrobe, mermaids, pirates; hell. Even a nightmare. But somehow, you are standing in front of the bathroom mirror, holding a bandage wrapper and staring at a dressing around your left bicep. The loo is a mess, clothing is stripped all over the floor, several towels are left bunched up in the corners; you have nothing on but your knickers and consider for a moment that Naomi **is** in fact home. That maybe she took the day off to enjoy being a couple with you, in the form of messy playfulness on the bathroom sink. But there is just one problem with this whole thing, isn't there? More than one, in fact. Something isn't right. You feel uneasy, you feel your heart is racing, and there is worry in your bones. Worry that this is the start of something much bigger than yourself; something absolutely frightening. _What the fuck? _you think to yourself - but manage to say aloud - as you never break your gaze from your arm; as if it will jump out at you if you look away. There is a bloody rag in the sink, with much more blood soaked into it than you are comfortable with, and you see a strange leather jacket hanging off of one of your towel racks behind you in the mirror reflection. You consider taking a closer look at it for a moment, before you are brought out of your thoughts once again.

_Fuck. The phone._

You place the wrapper in the rubbish bin next to the toilet, and enter the main room to collect the phone; the caller ID flashes 'Naomi's Work Cell'.

"Naomi?" You ask, confused. She never phones you this time of day. She is usually at her busiest in the mornings, and calls you over her lunch. You've grown accustomed to the routine, and so has she. So the fact that she has broken it, makes you worry even more.

"Hey Ems. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No..." You're pretty sure that isn't a lie, but you can't tell anymore.

"How's the arm?"

"What?" You ask, unaware she even knew about it.

"Your arm? You must have walked into something last night. I woke up and you were in the loo. Don't you remember?"

You don't remember, but decide to indulge her anyways; her calmness and knowledge about the situation eases your nerves a little. "Yeah, right. It's fine... I made a right mess, though. Didn't I?"

You hear her force a laugh, before she speaks again; sadness evident in her voice. "Look, I can't meet you tonight for our run. I'm really sorry-"

"What's wrong?" You ask, the tone of her voice is starting to frighten you.

"Something happened at the site last night..." She trails off, and you know whatever it is, can't be good.

She startles you when she speaks again. "You know what? Come down and see me, Yeah? I'll take you to lunch and we'll talk about it."

You hear the hesitation in her voice, but you can't help saying "Of course, I'll be there in thirty minutes." as you race into the bedroom you share in search of clothing.

It is a brisk morning, so as you say "I love you." and hang up the phone, you put on one of Naomi's wool sweaters and a pair of blue jeans. Mulling your choice over - imagining the way it looks on Naomi, falling off in all the right places - you think its bigger size on you, falling in all the wrong places; is a comforting choice. You need comfort right now, as this day is quickly turning into a bizarre one. You take another one of Naomi's jumpers out and bring it with you, because knowing her; she flipped autumn off this morning wearing nothing but a blouse and a cardigan.

Just then you remember the strange jacket left in your loo. You take a detour back there, picking up speed as you pad across the cold floor. You reach the room, and swiftly enter; but the jacket is gone. You search the entire room looking for where it may have gone, where you may have seen it; but it has completely vanished. You start to think that it was a hallucination, because the towel hanging in the exact spot you saw the jacket is black in color; and upon closer inspection looks like what you saw in the reflection of the mirror. As you are set to leave again, you remember the bloody rag is still in the sink and your arm still aches. You clean up as best as you can, running the laundry and cleaning up the sinks (yes, your bathroom is equipped with 'hers and hers' sinks upon Naomi's insistence) and a few dried blood droplets off the floor before you head out. You don't see a trail of blood coming from or leading anywhere, in fact you don't see any on your arm - as you lift the dressing up to reveal a clean looking cut - so you must not have left the house when you became injured. You sum it all up to another black out, one that has caused you injury. This isn't the first time you have forgotten what has happened, or even seen things that weren't really there; like black towels viewed as leather jackets. And this isn't the first time you've cut yourself on the edge of a cupboard door, either.

;

;

You greet him with the most sincere smile you can muster, as the boy smiles brightly from behind his desk. He is very sweet, and both you and Naomi know he adores the pants off of you; but he is a good match for Naomi. He is intelligent, and compliments her spectacularly when it comes to the job. Being Naomi's assistant can't be an easy task, but he does it with ease and concentration. He even manages to make her laugh occasionally when he gets locked-on or babbles.

"Ah, Miss Campbell. Lovely to see you this morning!" he greets enthusiastically, standing from his desk respectfully and extending his hand to you; which you kindly receive.

"Hi JJ. Is Naomi in? I'm supposed to meet her-"

"Ah, yes." He says, and the quieter tone he uses stumps you a little. Since when is JJ ever mild around you?

"She had to step away for a moment, but she will be back soon. I've been instructed to seat you in her office, and entertain you... any way I can." He pushes out his last sentence rather quickly, winking as he does so - but the shy boy winks to the ground instead of at you; where a confident boy would usually look. This makes you laugh.

"Cheeky..." You start. "Been hanging around Mr. Cook again?"

"Yes, yes." He replies quickly. "Apologies I... he said practice makes perfect and well, statistically he is right. You see, many things become better with practice. Cooking, cleaning, learning to play music... It can all be improved by the same actions over and over and the constant stimuli will force both your brains memory and your body's memory to become more comfortable-"

"JJ." You say sternly. "You're getting locked-on." You place a calming hand on his shoulder and he quiets down, blushing profusely.

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"It fine, Jay." You say with a smile, following him into Naomi's office. "Just try not to take too much of Cook's advice. You're not him, and I promise a nice boy like you won't want the kind of girls a guy like him attracts."

He extends his hand to the sofa, and you sit down comfortably as he follows; sitting on the chair opposite you. He starts wringing his hands together, and you wonder if you've said something wrong; something to upset him. You open your mouth to speak, but he beats you to it.

"I did like this one girl, but Cook got her first. Now she's gone forever."

The vague description from JJ is also abnormal for him, and you're not used to having to ask him to elaborate.

"What do you mean, Jay? Cook doesn't seem the type to marry..."

"She's dead." He replies quietly, and the room falls silent. You are baffled, and completely lost. Like you're in a dark room with no furniture, no sound; no temperature. What does he mean, she's dead? Of course, she is no longer alive, but does that mean Cook isn't okay? is that why Naomi seems so upset? Maybe she has to pick up the slack now, because he took some time off to grieve. You're sure the last thing Naomi needs right now is to replace him. Just then the office door opens, and your wife pops in quietly. She looks exhausted, and you stand up because the sight of her is concerning for you. Her hair is frazzled, her eyes are glossy, and her features are furrowed. Nothing about her right now you are used to seeing.

"Emily." She sighs, and comes over to you right away; scooping you up into your arms.

"I'm sorry to be so selfish, asking you here. It's just been a shit day and well, you're a sight for sore eyes..."

She lets go of you for a moment, and takes in your appearance with a smile starting to appear on her face.

"Is that my jumper?"

"Yeah," You smile back, pointing to your bag left untouched on the sofa. "I brought you one, too. Seems I was right, you leaving the house inappropriately dressed."

You quirk a playful eyebrow up at her and gesture to her thin attire - beautiful as it is that she is wearing a maroon colored blouse with a dark grey suit vest - to prove your point. She smirks, and shrugs, before turning her attention to the quiet boy on the couch.

"JJ, can you call Ron from Furnishings Plus and cancel our appointment?"

He complies straight away, nodding respectfully in your direction before replying "Of course." to Naomi's demand and exiting the room. As he shuts the door behind him, Naomi slumps down on the couch with a soft _thud_ and starts to rub at her eyes. Her sleeves are rolled up, and her shirt is slightly un tucked. You stand there for a minute, a little dumbfounded at the inside information you are not privy to at the moment; as you stare blankly at your wife. She is clearly stressed - and upset - a version of her you haven't seen since that fateful night at the campus bar.

"Come sit, babe." Naomi pleads, extending her hand to you. You take it happily, and sit down next to her; snug on the soft sofa.

"What the hell is going on?" You ask, the mystery of it all becoming too much for you to bear. She sits up and scratches the back of her neck, before taking your left hand with both of hers and running her thumb gently along your wedding ring.

"I remember when I bought this," She starts. "The jeweller **hated** my design. He said_ 'Just because you can design buildings, doesn't mean you should design a wedding ring.' _I laughed at him, and told him that he clearly didn't have the skills to make my dream a reality."

She runs her thumb over the ring again, and kisses your hand sweetly. "Four weeks later I proposed to you with it."

She smiles to herself, and she hasn't looked up at you once. You've had enough at this point, and your frustration would have boiled over if it wasn't for the fact that Naomi is so sweet with you, but also that you know she is stalling for time for a good reason. At least to her. She is quite clever, you know that much. She sighs heavily, before she stops her movements and squeezes your hand lightly. She looks up at you, into your eyes, and says quietly:

"There was an explosion at the work site last night. Three people died."

You gasp, and it all finally makes sense to you. Naomi has never been one to handle death well, not since her father Kieran died - leaving just Naomi and her mother to comfort one another. Naomi is a strong woman, and has always been strong for you; and that didn't change in regards to Gina. She stayed with you for a few months, taking up residence in the spare bedroom, but she'd eventually had enough and decided to travel. Naomi insisted on buying her a ticket to Spain, and having you accompany her. She was worried - of course she was - and you didn't have the heart to say 'No' to Naomi. So you accompanied Gina to Cyprus, where you not only learned an awful lot about the woman; but gained a whole new respect for her aswell.

"Are you okay?" You finally manage to ask, reminiscing about Cyprus ceasing momentarily as you snap back to reality.

"I'm... scared." She admits.

"Of course I'm upset about the whole thing, the people who died... but I'm terrified. Bloody terrified that I'll lose my job, lose the house. Lose everything. They want someone to blame, Em. And that usually ends up being the person in the highest position."

Her fear upsets you - even though you understand - because even if she did lose everything; you'd still be there. Standing proudly next to her, going through it together. So you decide to tell her that.

"Whatever happens, it doesn't matter. As long as I have you, we can do anything. It will be okay, Naoms. I promise."

Just then, your special moment passes in an instant, as there is a quiet knock on the door; and Naomi calls for whoever it is to enter. None other than James Cook pokes his head inside, his spark is very dull this day.

"What do you want, James?" Naomi is clearly agitated with the man.

"Naomio I... Well I have something to tell you." He steps inside and closes the door tightly behind himself.

"Look I... I know we're not supposed to do this but... me and Sophia kind of-"

"Spit it out, James!" Naomi bites furiously, causing the man to step back a little as he takes his hat off and pulls at it in his hands.

"We had people over to the site last night. I know, it was stupid. People were pissed, man. I left before it all happened to get more beer but... Reckon someone must have dropped a cigarette or sumfin', caught the dynamite on fire?"

Naomi stands then, her fists bunched up so tightly they have turned white. "You'd better make this right, and it had better be **fast**, Cook."

Her calm tone is more frightening than a scream, as you sink back a little in your seat. You're not used to seeing Naomi like this, but you don't blame her. Three people died last night, and to find out it was because of a party is beyond comprehensible.

"What do ya want me to do?"

"A list of names." Naomi says flatly. "Of _every_, single person there."

"Okay." He nods quietly, squeezing at his hat one last time before placing it on his head.

"There was me, Sophia, Danny and Julie from wood working... Oh, and Sophia's girl... Emmy or somefin'. Brought along a fit little bird, too. Can't remember her name, neither."

Naomi searches the man for a minute, before she decides on something. She walks over to her desk calmly, and starts to dial a number.

"Write it all down, Cook." She says, as she punches the buttons on the phone. "And do your best to remember their faces? The police are going to want descriptions."

;

;

**9:30pm. The previous night...**

"Do you want to go to a party?" She asks, bringing you out of your post-coital daze.

"What?"

"A party." She repeats, softly stroking your arm. "A friend of mine got some job at a construction site, and she wants to have some fun. You in?"

You ponder this for a moment, thinking about all the favourite parties you have been to. It seems all the best ones were underground, or thrown at run-down, abandoned buildings. You've decided.

"Sure."

Effy smiles at you, one that is both genuine and mischievous, as she sits up and bolts out of bed.

"What, now?" you half shout, as she scurries around the room grabbing her discarded clothes off the floor one by one.

"Yes, Katie. Now would be the time."

"But it's half past two!" you implore. Too late for you to be out on the town, you think.

"Would you rather stay in bed?" She asks coyly. "Not that I don't _love _it when you've got me handcuffed. But I'm starting to get chafed, and rather bored of looking at my tiled ceiling."

She does have a point. You have been meeting at bars and going back to her flat, 'indulging in the velvet' for about a week and a half now; well more like two weeks. If it wasn't for the fact that the girl fascinates you in every sense of the word; you would be bored too. So instead of telling her that, you decide to comply to her request. You get dressed along with her - secretly catching glances of her in any reflective surface you can find - before you are walking arm in arm out of her front door. You've been having so much fun with this girl, more fun than you've ever had in your time. And you wonder just for a moment, what it would be like to not have to share that time with someone else. She is witty and creative, mysterious and alluring. You've lived your life very sound, very detached from everyone and everything. She is something you want to call yours, because you feel like you deserve that much. Everyone deserves that, right? Even when they don't...

;

;

The party is a lot less fun than you had expected, and Effy has made her disappointment clear to you; and the host as well. She is some girl Effy knows from somewhere... the music was too loud for you to hear. Plus, you didn't really care anyway. She seemed like a bit of a twat, carrying on and on about how she is 'shagging her supervisor'._ Way to go, love. Brag about sucking your way to the top. That's going to get you **all **the respect in the world. _It's no surprise then, that when she goes to introduce her boy-toy to you and Effy, you excuse yourself and wander the isles alone.

"Eff, Katie? This is Cook. Say hi, cookie." The nickname is enough to make you want to vomit, so you take off before you set your eyes on said Cook. You hear his enormous voice over the music, and that is enough for you.

"Oi, darlin'! Where is she goin'?" he shouts, and you smile to yourself as you hear Effy say something along the lines of:

"Settle down, _Cook_. She has a low tolerance for wankers." He howls with laughter and they start conversing, as you make your way through a quiet corridor.

Rows upon rows of doors don the hallway you walk, and it looks something like a large hotel. You suppose there are grand plans for this place, as there are many building materials around for luxury. Crown moulding, wood floors. Carpets as soft as Egyptian cotton. After studying the materials carefully, you stumble onto the box quite literally. You curse aloud as you lift your leg and rub your foot that now aches from the harsh contact with the hard, wooden box; but forget all about the pain as you read the label.

_Caution: Explosives. For Demolition use, only._

It's then, that you get an idea. A crazy, an immoral, a very exciting; _awful _idea. As you are thinking, you hear footsteps behind you.

"Thinking what I'm thinking, I see."

Effy slinks up behind you, wrapping her arms around you from behind.

"Everyone has gone home. It's just us, and a few others left here. Fireworks in order?"

You smile, and sink comfortably into her embrace.

"Fireworks?"

You feel her smirk in response, as she squeezes you just a little tighter before placing her lips over your ear.

"Yeah. I'm bored, and I'm pretty sure there's only a few people left here."

You step out of her embrace then, as her words sink in.

"You want to set them off, with people still inside?"

"Not people..." She responds, stepping towards you again and running a playful hand up your arm. You know she's just tested you with information extremely important, and you know the way it makes you feel. But she is unaware, and tries to back track. Or, at least explain her actions to someone she isn't sure understands. "They're junkies, all of them. I-"

"I don't care who or what they are, Effy. It just sounds a little... _impersonal_, to me. Don't you think?"

Effy's body relaxes instantly - a smirk starting to form on her lips - as she gets your hint right away; and just nods silently to you. She pulls out a cell phone cord from her pocket, and tosses it over to you; you catch it.

"You do one first, yeah?"

You smile to her, as your heart starts to thump louder; you feel the mud pump in your veins. Something that has always driven you to curiosity, this is. What would it be like? How would it feel? Effy is the catalyst to your transformation, together you've formed a harmonious and hell bound bond; and it is anything short of remarkable. You walk out of the room quietly, as Effy follows behind you. If your ears weren't so trained, you would miss the light sounds of her footsteps trailing you. There is a voice you hear ahead getting louder, and before you know it, there is a very drunk girl stumbling out of one of the rooms and into your arms.

"Woah, that was like, trippy babes! You're like a superhero... catching me like that."

You shove her off of you forcefully, and she stumbles back onto the concrete wall.

"Ouch! Like, why'd you do that? I thought you were cool, man."

You smile deviantly at her, and the look in her eyes is enough to send a rush of adrenaline buzzing through your entire body as you lurch forward and press the chord around her neck. She is choking, and you can feel her struggles. She grabs at a beer bottle on the floor, and smashes it into your arm; but your strength does not budge. And its euphoric, this feeling of control. This feeling of power, that you hold so much in the palms of your hands and can do whatever you want with whomever you want. Just as you watch the girl take her last breath, you hear commotion behind you. Another drunk has staggered out into the hallway, and into Effy's path. You are about to make a move when you see Effy smile at the guy - who's figured out exactly what you've done to his friend - before she grabs at a metal pipe from the ground and clips the guy forcefully across the face with it. You see blood and teeth go flying, as you feel the girl in your arms go limp. You drop her to the ground and you can hear Effy's blows from behind you, as you unwrap the chord and call out to her.

"Eff, come on." You say, reaching your arm out to her. "Do you have a light?"

Effy stands up slowly, the pipe bloodied and hanging in her right hand. She turns her head slightly to meet your gaze, before she motions to the body.

"Watch." She says - more like asks - as she raises the pipe above her head. She slams it down into the guy's face; causing worse disfigurement. You smile, because she is a very powerful woman. The ability to over power someone with that much brutality; you are surely in love.

"We are terrible people, aren't we?" You ask playfully, as you slip your arm into hers. She pulls out her lighter, and moves the flame as it catches the rope attached to the dynamite.

"Perhaps."

_**I'm pretty sure FClydEN will understand what I mean when I say I really fucking hated writing my beloved Keffy into a psychotic duo; but it had to be done. (And yes, I have noticed that my writing is scary violent, which is a HUGE contradiction considering I'd never hurt a fly. I blame all the violent video games I play. Anyone else counting down the days for GTA V? Anyone?...)**_

_** If this is all still a mystery to you, then great! If it isn't, and that bothers you; my apologies. You guys are much better at Clue than I ever was. Colonel Mustard with the candle stick was ALWAYS my guess... So predictable, me.**_

_**You are still liking it though, right? Let me know! and critique away, peeps! The button is just... THERE, marked 'Review'... :) Even if it's to say that I crossed a line making Keffy a little... Folie à deux.**_

_**xoV**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys, thank you for being so patient with me on this one. The story seems to have grown a mind of its own, and for that I need to write a warning. You see, Katie and Effy get up to some... morbid shenanigans and well... I'm not sure how comfortable some of you are with that. So you can skip it if you like, I will write a little summary at the end for those of you who don't like reading about madness and murder. **

"Did I ever tell you the definition of insanity?" She says.

That glint in her eye - that one that turns you on _so much _- is starting to take form. You see him start to tremble, his whole body awakens into violent tremors as you see the fear rush through his entire body. The duct tape over his mouth is blocking his feeble attempts at remorse from escaping his putrid lips - those desperate pleas you can only imagine he would say to try and turn back the clock - and you know it only gives Effy more pleasure. Pleasure in knowing, that her words are not wasted on this man. It is a laughable contradiction to you - considering the man himself is a waste of space - but it is exhilarating for you to witness someone other than you; hang on this woman's every word. Not but an hour before, he witnessed your aggressive snog and thought a comment would go on unnoticed. But Effy is nothing if not menacing, the sheer lack of respect thrown in your direction was enough to bring on that wicked smile of hers, and club the laughing man. Waking up in this hell is a punishment much deserved, in your opinion. But, you can't help but think; that your opinions are a little biased as of late.

"They say I am insane. They **all** said I was a _strange case_. But you know what? I am **not** insane. You see," She positions the metal chair, causing an ominous sound of finality to clear into the empty room around you, as the sound bounces off every corner and plummets towards the shaking man. You can feel your heart beat faster in your chest, as her taunting reaches the highest of heights for you. Something about this woman, her confidence - her authority - some would call it obsession. Some would call it infatuation. But the truth of the matter is that she mystifies you in the full sense, but watching her unleash her wicked side; creates a whole other world for you both to live in.

"People who do the same thing over, and over, expecting different results? Now _they_ are the insane ones. The first time my therapist told me that..." She inhales a dramatic breath and rolls her head back.

"I thought he was taking the piss, you know? Lying to me. So you know what I did? I grabbed the pen from his right chest pocket, that one that used to press into my shoulder when he was on top of me, and well... I stabbed it in his fucking eye."

The man starts to scream through the duct tape, and you take your que from Effy and swing the pipe in your hands hard at the back of the mans' elbow. He yelps in pain; but he isn't begging Effy anymore. She lets out a small laugh, as she continues on. You can't help but smile.

"He was right, you know. Can you believe it? He was actually, fucking right." She picks up a pair of pliers from the table next to you, and the man starts to squirm. She is using the tip of the pliers to clean some blood out from under her fingernails, as the tears of a dead man stream down his face.

"Because I started to see it everywhere. The people, doing the same fucking things, everyday, expecting something different. Expecting their lives to change. And it was in that moment when I realized; I was **far **from insane."

She stands up, pushing the chair out from under her violently, as it slams the wall. Your excitement is rising, as the man cowers even closer to the floor. You know your time is near...

"What did you think, huh? When you first saw my face, tell me. What did you see?"

The man doesn't dare look at her, which only infuriates you. You grab him from behind, and hold the pipe to his neck so he is forced to look at her. She smirks at you, before continuing her taunting.

"Let me guess... Beautiful? Sexy? or my personal favourite... you were imagining me bent over a chair, weren't you?"

You hold him steady as she flexes the pliers in her hands, before looking up at the man and smiling wickedly. She grabs his eyebrow ring with the pliers, and yanks it out of his face violently. The man bucks and wails under your grasp, but he isn't going anywhere. Effy plays with the bloody piercing in her hand, and turns around to face him again.

"The thing is, mate. I am far from being those, _normal_ things... A maniac, a tyrant. **Those** are the kinds of words that people will use to describe me; do you see?"

She tosses the pliers over her shoulder and bends down to his face. You let him go, and take a quick seat in the chair behind the man. This is it, the moment where she lets it all out. The moment that the fear will show in his face the most, and you await the depths patiently.

"You, my dear fellow. You, are going to be the exception here tonight. You, are going to do something different... something life-altering. Don't you want to be a part of the revolution?" He hides his face from Effy as she speaks, so she reaches down to him and grabs his face, slapping him playfully in the cheeks.

"Hey, hey, look at me. It's alright, shhh. I'm going to tell you something, just relax. Take a deep breath..."

You stand from your chair as the moment closes in on you, and you pick up the axe next to you, leaning against the wall to your left.

"It's not me you need to be afraid of."

In that moment, you swing at the man with all your might. And you don't stop, even when your arms grow tired. The warmth of his blood is everywhere on you now; you can feel his heartbeat stream down your face. But in this moment, everything is perfect. You've finally found your smile, it's pure and blood stained. You scream 'who's the bitch now?' as you paint the walls with his vibrant and exclusive shade of red. You know Effy is leaning against the table watching you, and it urges you on faster; harder. Watching the destruction you can cause has turned into a kind of foreplay for Effy, and you know she is soon to unleash her inner Leviathan. You eagerly await her presence every time, and you feel her growing near as you launch your final swing at the dead body. You drop the axe to the floor with a solid _clunk_, as you hear Effy quietly push off the table. You stand still, awaiting her next move intently, as you feel her arms slink around your waist. She rests her chin on your shoulder, and whispers into your ear softly:

"Amazing."

And it's in that moment that it all starts, she turns you around and the feel of her lips on yours is aggressive and hungry. You know exactly how bad she wants you, how much you have turned her on. And you are nothing but Effy's willing victim. She slides her arms down your body before you feel her at your bum; and you almost groan with the anticipation of her next move. instead of squeezing - which is something you would have expected - she lifts you clear off the ground. You instinctively wrap your legs around her waist, as her arms cradle you from below. You are much shorter than the tall girl, but in this position you are at eye level with her. You wrap your arms around her neck as she slams you into the wall, the sound of breaking glass fills your ears. You let Effy roam your neck with her mouth, but it's when she starts to unbutton your shirt that you realize you are covered in blood.

"Eff... Effy." You start, pushing back on her shoulders so she will look at you. Her eyes bore into your own, and you curse yourself for stopping this woman. Perfection she is, the full definition, and you almost decide to kiss her before you see your own reflection in her arctic eyes.

"I have to clean off first. I'm covered."

You motion to your face and torso with blood soaked hands, in the hopes that Effy will let you clean up first. She doesn't let go of you though, and continues to stare intensely into your eyes. Her trademark smirk starts to form on her lips, as her eyes begin to rake your body. It's when she lets out a small laugh that you buckle completely. She holds you in place with one arm, as her other one comes loose and up to your face. She runs a finger down your cheek until the tip of her finger is soaked in blood. You don't dare break her gaze as she puts that finger into her smiling mouth, and it emerges completely clean. Your mind starts spinning frantically as she decides to rip your shirt off and carry you over to the table, slamming you down forcefully onto it. Your kisses grow in hunger for her, as she expertly runs her nails down your back. You beg her to draw blood, but she has her own mind made up of what she is going to do to you. She runs a wet tounge painfully slow up your neck, and you can feel the heat of her breath on your skin as she tugs at your ear eagerly with her teeth. Your legs wrap tightly around her waist, as you start to undo her belt buckle. The clanking sound of her metal buckle becoming undone sends a rush of heated excitement through your body, while she slides her hand into your leggings. And it's in the moment her hand is exactly where you want it to be, hovering just above you in some lame attempt at flattery, that makes you lose your patience and push your hips into her. The feeling of Elizabeth Stonem inside you creates a boiling pot of desire as you wrap your arms tightly around her neck, bringing her as close to you as possible.

You wonder for a lengthy amount of time if she had attended med school - using your cadaver as the subject of her education - because it is the only way you can fathom how well she knows your body. Where to poke, where to prod. Where to stroke that sends you reeling in a fit of nerves and pleasure. And it only takes a few moments for her to send you plummeting over the edge, before you've completely gone mad.

**Two hours earlier...**

_Break involuntary ties, a secret so the spies could never find us out. Stay for as long as you have time, so the mess that we'll become, leaves something to talk about. A casual affair that could go anywhere, and only for tonight; take any moment, any time._

_A lover on the left,_

_A sinner on the right._

"That's quite a predicament you're in, Katiekins."

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, as your reaction time starts to slow down. Effy gets the BEST drugs. You know it's true. The room spins and starts to blur, with each line you inhale the faces dancing along the walls get more animated.

"Yeah, well. She is an important part of my life, Eff. I mean, I rely on her really."

"Or _she_ relies on **you**."

You scrunch your nose up in disagreement. "I don't think that's how it works-"

"I know a guy." She cuts in. "He specializes in chemistry and shit. He can help you."

You think for a moment, before the realization kicks in. She is talking about her dealer. That scruffy guy you met not one hour before - wearing a dirty old wife beater and the baggiest pair of jeans you've ever seen on a pipe cleaner with eyes look-alike - the one who showed you a grand tour of his little 'cook house' in the hopes that his manners would ignite a fire in Effy. Little does he know that fire only burns for you.

"He's a prick-"

"He cooks good shit." She cuts again. "And he was some, big wig, head chemist for a pharmaceutical company a while back... the point is, he is fucking brilliant, and I could probably get him to create a prescription for you."

You ponder her offer for a moment, but can't seem to make out what exactly it is that she is proposing. Normally you understand her to no fault, but maybe it's your lack of confidence in the thug; or maybe you don't believe it is possible. To block Emily out of your life completely, to finally have a life separate from her. The thought of such a reality seems just shy of your reach, it's always just shy of your reach; and you think that Effy is shooting for the sky because of her inebriated state. But she turns your world on it's head when she gives you an ultimatum.

"Just meet with him, Katie. Try it. If you don't, we can't continue like this."

You've never felt this before, a sense of insecurity. It terrifies you, the thought of Effy not being with you anymore, the thought that she doesn't want you.

"Wh... what?"

You actually, fucking stutter; as the fear cripples you. They say when fear cripples you, when deaths' shadow surrounds you; you need to drop a rose. But that won't work here.

"She is a liability, Katie. Plain and simple; she will find out about you. Some way or another, and then what? What exactly do you think will happen when she finds out what you are? What **we** are? I'm not going back to that place. If I never hear the screams again, it will be too soon."

You focus on each word from her lips more than you ever have, and you finally come to a decision. She is right. And you've grown tired of sharing with perfect, little Emily Campbell. The one who runs your life, the one you tip-toe around as to not disturb the dirt beneath her feet. Things are not so easy as to just make her another victim, you can't bury her where the dirt will fill her lungs. You can't paint the walls with her blood, and it's all something of a frustration to you. An awakening, a finality. You will no longer share with Emily. This life is yours; and you are taking it back by force.

**Emily**

Not long after Naomi called the Police, they hauled Cook down to the prescient for questioning. The officers were nice enough to question Naomi in her office with you present, your strong grip on her hand showing your unwavering support. Their questions brought out answers in Naomi that you expected, but your inner monologue scares you so much; you are knocked off keel. It's like, your mind has the answers to all the questions the officers are asking, but you haven't the slightest idea how you could possibly know any of it. You tremble a little, thinking maybe your mind is doing this as some kind of coping mechanism; creating instances in your head of how everything went down so that you can understand something terrible. But the detail in which you recall things makes you disagree instantly.

"Where were you during the hours of 2, and 5 a.m. Mrs. Campbell?"

_At a party._

"At home, sleeping."

"Can anyone confirm that?"

_That girl, with the eyes as cold as a glacier, and a smile as black as the night sky._

"My wife, Emily."

"I'm sorry Mrs. Campbell, but your wife is not a good enough alibi. Do you have anyone else?"

"No, sir."

You squeeze her hand to show your support, she knows you're there but you can't help but want to reinforce it. She sends you a weak smile, before the officer asks her a new series of questions.

"What can you tell me about the deceased. A Ms. Sophia Morton, a Mr. Danny Black, and a Ms. Julie Smythe?"

_One was shagging Cook, one was strangled, one was beaten._

"Sophia was a new employee... very bright. Danny worked in maintenance and Julie was our main floor Receptionist."

"And how long had each employee been working for you?"

"Sophia was new, as I said. Danny was about... three years in. Julie has one year."

You feel Naomi's hand twitch beneath yours, a nervous tic of hers is to fidget. But you have her in place - just for now - as you hold her hand reassuringly. You mentally slap yourself for bringing up all these details, how or why it is happening is a mystery to you. your palms are sweating, and Naomi will begin to notice soon.

"Okay Mrs. Campbell, that's all the questions we have for now. We are going to need a copy of each employee record, Mr. Cook's as well."

"Is he a suspect?" You chime in stupidly, though you can't help it. For some reason, you know he is innocent; and the thought of him being jailed for having a party is not something you want to have happen to the man.

"We cannot discuss the details of this case with you, Mrs. Campbell. We will be in touch."

Naomi gets up from her seat, and goes directly for her filing cabinet. You try your hardest to hide your fears, but the mask you are wearing is oily; slipping off your face with each breath you take. The officer takes the files Naomi hands him, placing them into his briefcase, before he makes a quick exit. Naomi waits for the man to leave before slumping back into her chair; exhausted. You stand, making your way over to her as she starts to rub at her temples.

"It's going to be okay-"

"They died, Emily. I... I've worked with all of them. Enough to know about the people they left behind. Nothing I can do will fix this."

You see tears start to fall down her face, and you can't help yourself any longer. You lean down, and wrap your arms around your distraught wife; hiding your own tears in the soft material of her wool jumper. She sobs quietly in your arms, and you use every muscle in your body not to break. Naomi needs you, she needs you to be strong for her. That pillar that holds her up when things around her waiver, a job you happily accepted the day she let you see just how fragile she really was. Just then, a call comes through on Naomi's desk phone. She sniffles a little, giving you a gentle kiss before answering the phone in a surprisingly calm tone.

"Hello?... What are you talking about?... No, I don't know anyone by that name. Yeah, I'll come down and-... Sure. Tell them I'll be there shortly."

She hangs up the phone, and begins to rub at her temples again.

"That was Cook. He needs a ride home, and the police want me to look at a suspect Cook described. See if maybe she was a disgruntled former-employee or something. Do you want to go home?"

You shake your head quickly, and take her hands gently in yours; raising her up off her chair.

"I'm coming with you."

;

;

The ride to the prescient was quiet, and full of un-said words. You saw Naomi try her hardest to grip the steering wheel during your drive, but you had to tell her to pull over so you could switch places. You didn't want her to have to do anything she isn't ready for, and she needed that time to relax and try to think.

You climb the steps together - just like you do in life - and enter through the glass doors of the police station. it's an odd and busy place, with slags and drunks fumbling about and making scenes in every corner of the building. Naomi instinctively pulls you tightly to her, as she's always been very protective of you. You walk down the messy, loud and shaking corridor until you reach the front desk. Naomi tells the woman in uniform something you can't quite make out, as the angry woman next to you is screaming about her cat at the top of her lungs. The officer doesn't look up, and gives you both a dismissive wave in the direction of the right hallway. Of course - your wife being the ever mindful one - gives the disillusioned officer a nod of thanks before you make your way down the hallway. There is panic in the pit of your stomach, something inside of you fears that the white walls of this place are about to close in on you at any second. But Naomi being very... Naomi, holds you tightly; reassuring you that she holds the solace that you seek. You both see him at the same time, sitting on a very uncomfortable looking chair with his head bowed; fumbling with the cellphone in his hands. The sound of Naomi's heels on the hollow floor makes the man aware of your ever advancing presence, as he lifts his sullen head and forces a smile on his face.

"Emilio, Naomikins. You're both a sight for sore eyes."

He stands, and raises his arms out - signalling for you to enter his embrace. And you don't really hesitate, because the man looks a broken mess. You can only imagine what kind of degree he has been through; a man with his past and record. Anyone else would think he was suspect number one, but something in you KNOWS this man is far from responsible for the deaths of those people. He wraps his brawny arms around you tightly, as he rests his chin atop your head. You pat his back a few times comfortingly, before you pull back and look into the sad mans' forest green eyes.

"They want you guys to check out some girl... It seems they matched my description to a girl they had on file. I don't remember her workin' wiv us, but what can it hurt; right Naoms?"

He lets you go, and Naomi gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. It seems you're not the only one convinced of the mans' innocence. Naomi enters the room confidently, and greets the detectives at the desk with a few brief handshakes before taking a seat at the table across from them. You enter quietly after, shutting the door softly behind you and taking your seat next to Naomi.

"Alright, ladies. We're going to show you a couple pictures of women that match the description that Mr. Cook gave us, please let us know if you recognize any of them. Okay?"

Both Naomi and you nod in unison, before the detective starts to open up the binder on the table and pull out a few photos from inside. They all seem to look similar, brown hair and blue eyes. But none of them strike a chord with you, until the last photo emerges. A girl you've seen in your dreams, the one that would not stop popping into your head all afternoon. Long, brown locks engulf her face - a slender frame - but it's the eyes that give you that feeling of certainty in your stomach. The icy shade of blue sends your insides into a fit as you gaze into them. Lifeless, cold, and menacing they are to you, as you pick up the photo to study the name written beneath the inmate number on the photo.

Elizabeth Stonem.

**So, a re-cap as promised. Katie and Effy brutally murder some unlucky man who made the mistake of pissing Effy off. As it were, Effy is a psychotic murderer with more mental problems than a serial rapist on Criminal Minds and Katie is head-over-heels devoted to Effy; making her just as sick as our favourite Stonem. **

**I hope you're still liking this, I know it may be a hard pill to swallow - our Keffy being so... brutal - but it's necessary. There is a point, it's not just some sick extension of my imagination!**

**Drop me a review? I read every word. So know that your praise, hate or frustration does not fall on deaf ears. **

**xoV**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey, so I seem to have lost a few of you back there :( I know, I know. I can't really blame you, this is... let's just say I get it! (I wanted to update on Halloween, since this story is rather fitting for the time of year... but life doesn't work that way sometimes. Happy belated Hallows Eve!) Massive thanks to those of you who read, reviewed; thanks a million. And of course, thanks to _tinderbliss_ for being that gorgeous THORN in my side when it comes to my writing. I swear, girl puts my lack-of-talent on a pedestal much too high for me to reach. Expect an update for those of you reading TOUL within the next week as well :)**

**Oh, and if you could do me a favor? (god, where do I get the gall to ask so much of you guys?) Check out her story _In The Rough_? I've had the honor of getting to know the story inside and out, do a little thorn work of my own, role plays (no, not dirty kind - unfortunately) BETA-ing... let's just say I know what is in store for this story; and you're not gonna want to miss it. **

**Katie.**

"Let me guess. God turned his back on you, heavens' gates are shut. So now you've come to knock on the devils' door?"

You shake your head at the smirking man in annoyance, cocky prick that he is. "Yeah, no. Don't think you're worth _that_ much, 'Devil' is kind of high on the evolutionary scale for you."

He chuckles at you, the sound of his laughter ringing in your ears makes your fists clench instantly. Effy is the only reason you are here - talking to someone you just want to bludgeon to death - because she is everything to you. So for once, you swallow your fiercely grown pride; and speak again.

"Frederick, look. Effy seems to have some... kind of _faith_ in you. Can you do it, or not?"

He regards you for a moment, eyes hungry with something that makes your inner embers start to implode. You know how much he wants Effy, and you know how much he disregards you. And its quite unfair of Effy to ask this of you, because you go along with her on _so much, _those people don't infuriate you as much as he does. As your anger boils over, you have to rememeber that the person in front of you will allow you to keep Effy; and that's both terrifying and infuriating.

"Yeah, I can do it Katie. But I need some things from you." He smirks sadistically and eyes your body one last time; and it takes hold of everything inside you to not reach out and strangle the man.

"Like what?" You ask through gritted teeth.

"For starters? Blood."

**Emily.**

"Do you know that woman? ...Miss. Campbell?"

You look up from the paper in the death grip of you hands, and place it back down on the table. Your palms are sweaty and your fingers are twitching nervously, as you do everything in your power to will them steady. That woman holds the answers you seek, and you need to play these next few moments correctly if you want to avoid suspicion; and gain some kind of understanding to what is going on with you. You contemplate option number one: tell them you have seen her hanging around Naomi's office building before. No, that won't be plausible. And even if it was, that would mean even more digging as to why she was hanging around in the first place. Option two: you've seen her at the park once or twice when you go for a run. Maybe. Everyone visits a public park for some logical reason or another. Option three: she looks like a barista at your local cafe, but that won't work. She is a beautiful Spanish girl; brown eyes and lustrous chocolate locks. Her smile sparkles when she sends warmth your way, genuine. Nothing like this girl - this girl that makes you feel she stole her soul from the devil. You contemplate a few other scenarios in your head before coming to a conclusion.

"I'm sorry, no. I don't know her. She just looks really sad is all."

Naomi smiles at you, and squeezes your hand gently.

"Emsy has always been too empathetic for her own good. I'm sorry, I don't recognize any of these women either. I wish I could be of more help to you lads."

As she stands - bringing you up with her - you see the officers share a questioning glance at each other. And you internally curse yourself then, because you know that you just picked up the picture of their prime suspect.

"We will be in touch."

;

;

"Who is she Em."

It's more of a statement rather than a question, and she knows how much that tone unsettles you. But she's gone and done it anyway, and you realize that she was lying back there; that the officers weren't the only ones that didn't fall for your bluff. You question whether or not to bring Naomi into this hole that is consuming you; whether it's at all important to burden her with words of the unknown when she is dealing with so much. You want to tell her everything, but you love her too much to spread this worry for no reason or proof. So instead you opt for a lie. But Naomi being very much... Naomi; she doesn't believe a word.

"Emily, you can talk to me. I know I have a lot going on, but you're the most important thing. Please-"

You cut her off mid-plea, because you can't deal with _this_ tone. The one that shakes your very bones; when she's begging you to let her in. And it's a questionable act - making her the one to pry - because she's always been the one who needed a crowbar to convince. But now you've turned the tide on her, and it feels rather cruel of you to do this to Naomi. And there's nothing you can do to change your mind. It's all made up, it's settled and its graffitied along the walls of your skull - _'Not Yet'._

;

;

You tell Naomi that you need to go home, that you have a pounding headache that needs a short slumber to cure. But it's a lie - and you find yourself lying to her more and more lately. That is the most grueling part of all this, the fact that you aren't being truthful to the woman you love most in this world and the next; the woman you would die for. You consider all of this as you search your closet for something comfortable, something that will allow you the freedom to search for a woman you don't know. In doing so, you discover the perfect outfit for detective work - skinny jeans, flat heeled boots, and an oversized plaid shirt you often use for warmth on those cold kingdom evenings.

Your first stop is the local library - and its a rather smart choice. This girl had a mug shot, which means she was in jail. And if she were jailed, there would be some record of her crime in the local paper. And that search moves on from the news paper, to an actual, published article by someone who found the woman absolutely fascinating in the world of Psychology. As you read, you stumble; and you realize just how horrible of a mistake you've made.

**_A Look Inside The Mind Of A Child Psychopath_**

**_By Steven Blair, P.H.D._**

**_Elizabeth Stonem, patient number 26605 in London's top Sanity Asylum; scheduled for release in two short years. Many of you know her as the UK's youngest killer to date; the perpetrator of two of the most gruesome murders in this century. In this article you will read about my time spent with this young woman in the hopes of getting a small peek into the mind of a deadly child (interview on pages 5-15)._**

**_Here is a letter she wrote to me highlighting her path from young child to cold-blooded murderer while incarcerated at the age of 16._**

_I blame the voices. I really do. They've started screaming at me since I was seven years old. That one, fateful night when Tony decided to cross that invisible line on our bedroom floor and jump into bed with me. He always made me uncomfortable, even when he would throw an innocent arm around my shoulder or kiss my cheek good night. Mom and dad would never notice my discomfort, because they were too busy fighting. Too busy fucking other people. They didn't notice anything wrong that next morning, when I stumbled downstairs with not but a word to anyone. That night I lost, and gained something at the same time. I lost my voice, but most importantly; I lost my mind. I lost my innocence, and I lost my love. But I gained something that night that no one - not even my brother - could take away from me; I received the gift of my Undines. Greek Mythology described them as beings in a living, breathing form; but that's not entirely true. They took refuge in my skull, using my brain as a cushion while they slept. And while they now slumber blissfully on the wreckage that used to be my humanity, I hum in the silence knowing that I am forever safe. Safe in my absence; safe in my anonymity. Tony came for me every night after that first time, he seemed to thoroughly enjoy my company. Even when he got a girlfriend he didn't stop. Even when she would come over after school and give him oral for the fiftieth time; he still came for me. I learned to enjoy it at some point that year, and after a while; he decided he wanted me to._

_It all changed when he went off to College. He outgrew me, and never came to visit me. He became a very popular man on campus, and decided his dirty little used up sister would ruin his image if that secret got out. Not only that, but there was no stability anymore. My parents split up, so I spent the majority of my time bouncing from house to house. They told me they fought because they both wanted me, but I knew it was a lie. Neither one of them would TAKE me, because they went off to try and make new lives in the hope of forgetting the old one they made together. But there was just one problem with that scenario, one thing that wouldn't let them forget; and that thing was me. And after about a year of rocky ground and pent up sexual frustration - no longer being properly disposed of by my older brother - I decided to act out. Which landed me in a half-way house for 'Troubled Teens' under the specialized care of a man named John Foster._

_Now, John was an interesting man. He was the first one of his kind to have a complete and utter fascination with me. He didn't start fucking me right away, but I knew he wanted to. And I knew it was only a matter of time, a matter of circumstance before he lunged at me. The day he realized just how far gone I was, he decided to end it all. The pitiful sessions, the counselling that went absolutely nowhere. He realized that day that nothing anyone - especially himself - could do or say would bring me back from hell. So, he decided to help himself. And yeah, I let him. I wanted it in a way, I wanted him to prove me right. The thing about this world, is it's all just rotting away. People say they are there to help you when they're not. They are put on such a high pedestal when they shouldn't be. And for some strange reason, I felt like entering me was a complete failing for him. All those awards and certificates on his walls meant nothing anymore. I took it all away from him with one simple thing; letting him do what he wanted._

_I used to get a kick out of torturing animals at school, but that soon lost its lustre. Where is the fun in decapitating something so small that can't fight back? I wanted a struggle I could overpower, I wanted a challenge. And that is what landed me here, in this tiny little room with no windows and no roommate. You see, there was this boy. He thought I was fit, and I played into that. Sometimes feeling lusted after eased my mind, it was something that gave me a choice in the matter. But this time it was different. I decided right then that separating the two wasn't enough for me anymore. He pulled down his pants, and I pulled out my fathers' hunting knife. I carved him a new smile, as a matter of fact; I carved many things into him that afternoon. But eventually I stopped having fun, painting little patterns and circles with his blood; so I decided to bury him. He was quite heavy, and I'll admit my lack of strength is one of the reasons I got caught. Burying a body beneath the school bleachers - it was only a matter of time before someone unearthed him from that shallow grave._

_John Foster was the only person I was able to visit in prison, well. If I'm being honest? He was the only one who would see me when I went inside. My parents fucked off to god knows where - unable to deal with the fact that their little girl killed someone and landed in an actual jail cell, they eventually got the gist that Juvie is no place for a killer - and I heard through the grapevine that Tony had changed his name and opened some strip club in Glasgow. So there I was, in jail and going to weekly sex-ions with Dr. Foster. And that didn't really bother me, because at least I got to go outside those four grey walls for a little while. Until it all got so... redundant. I grew bored with him, he wasn't fun to play with anymore. I'll admit, getting chocolate bars and packages from him inside did make my time easier, but I just couldn't shake it anymore. Especially when he started telling me about insanity. He actually thought that I wasn't mad, can you believe it? He told me that people milling about, doing the same things and expecting a different outcome where actually the insane ones. And me? well... I lost my temper. I will spare you the gory details, seeing as how I know you are quite a squeamish man... lets just say I was able to do more damage than I set out to do. Turns out you can actually die from ink poisoning._

_The police didn't end up charging me for his murder, because I was able to prove just what kind of 'sessions' he was having with me. The prosecutor ended up settling for a Self-Defence plea, so they moved me to this Asylum place; I hear they are releasing me in two years because of some 'age-out' thing... I guess turning 18 has many more perks than legally being allowed to drive. Now, I know what you're thinking. Someone as crazy as me shouldn't be allowed out of these walls. And I agree with you, I know what kind of monster I am to this world. But, I want to ask you this one question. Am I really that bad? You mean to tell me, in all your travels around this wicked world; that I am the worst of them? I know you, I've followed your articles since I was 10 years old. You have interviewed child molesters, serial killers; rapists. Bad men and women who do things to people unable to defend themselves. If you can look me in the eye and say I am a worse monster than they are, then I will believe you._

_Keep a weather eye on the horizon, the sun is about to set._

_That Stonem Girl xx_

;

;

You shuffle uncomfortably in your seat, as your eyes peel back each word and burn the letters into your eyelids. You still see the words when you blink, and you can't shake it anymore. Your entire body is trembling, as you try to take in a deep; soothing breath. You make a list in your head of your unearthings, the first is that this woman is a murderer. She is dangerous, and there is no way you are getting to her without endangering. Furthermore, there is no way in hell that you are telling Naomi about what is about to happen. Absolutely no way you are going to allow your wife anywhere near this... whatever _this_ is. You contemplate your options for a moment before you come to a conclusion. You are not finding this woman without some kind of back-up. And the person you have in mind will very much oblige to your wishes. You pull out your mobile and phone that same person.

"Ello, this be Cookie."

"Cook, it's Emily."

You can _feel_ his body shift uncomfortably through the phone, though no actual noise is made.

"Emilio, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I need your help, Cook. And I need it _discreet_; you understand?"

He is silent for a moment, before that 'Jack the Lad' way of his is blurted through the phone.

"Ey, that's great! Discretion is me specialty, muff-monkey. Just let 'ol Cookie know what kinda rubbers you're into and he'll-"

"Jesus _Christ_ James! I'm being fucking serious here, quit being a tosser for five seconds!"

You didn't mean to snap, it just happened. The stress of everything must have worn your patience - and your mind - thin. You open your mouth a few times to apologize, but no actual words come. Selective mutism is a problem you assume was taken from the last few years married to Naomi - queen of silence.

"Okay Emily, I get it. 'Tis been a rough day, ey? Let's shake it off and start again."

You nod, but realize in a few moments that the man can't actually _see _you. "Yeah, lets." Your voice is small, and you wonder at all if he actually heard you. But your inner question is answered swiftly.

"Is it Naomi? She's alright..."

"Yeah James, it's me. I... look, something is going on with me, but Naomi can NOT be privy to this, okay? Cook, promise me."

"'Course Ems. Where can we meet?"

;

;

"Em, really. I'm fine, just stay with me. I don't want tea or whatever the fuck... Em!"

You've been pacing around the kitchen for the last hour trying to do something - anything - to make Naomi feel better. You feel like shit, as you've left her alone longer than intended. You met with Cook - told his surprised and frankly frightened face everything that's been going on with you, from the blackouts to Effy Stonem - before coming home to find Naomi curled up on the couch. She had been crying, you can tell. Though she'd never admit it, she just gives you that _look. _That one that says 'I need you', and it only makes you feel worse. All you can think about is getting answers, fulfilling your daily detective quota, and it makes you sick. Getting Naomi to openly admit she actually needs you was hell enough, and now that she is actually doing it; you shove tea in her face and try to manipulate her into turning it in earlier than usual.

"I'm sorry Naoms. I just don't know what to do..."

"I just told you." Her voice is small, almost broken. And you slap yourself again inside for being so stupid.

"...Yeah. You're right, come on. I'm sorry, okay? Let's go to bed."

You hold out your arm to her, which she undoubtedly takes; as you lead her to the bedroom. She plops down on her side of the bed, as you pad over to your own and hop up onto the giant king. You laughed at her - that day she picked it out - because even though you are very much a pocket-sized version of a woman; she is not big either. But after a while, she convinced you that a giant bed was a good thing, and you never needed another shred of convincing after that first night of blissful slumber. She instantly rolls into you, her head on your shoulder; arm over your stomach. And you absent-mindedly start to trace your fingertips gently up and down her inner forearm; as you know it calms her so. And after a few brief minutes, you feel as her body slips into sleep.

;

;

"This looks like the place, Emilio. Kinda grungy lookin'... you reckon?"

It didn't take you long to find an address for the brunette, it seems you aren't the only decent detective in this town. You look up at the tall building before shifting your gaze back down to Cook.

"It's kinda dark out here..." you trail off, fear getting the best of you in this moment. You see him smile in the corner of your eye, as he takes your hand gently.

"Cookies here darlin'. Aint gonna let nuffin happen to ya, scouts honor 'n all that shite; ey? Now come on, let's confront this nutter."

His confidence is contagious, as your face smiles back at him. You start up the steps together, and check your watch briefly for the time.

_9:23p.m._

He knocks rather loudly on the door labeled '313', and your nerves start to surface again. How exactly had you planned this out to go? Confront a dangerous psychopath with questions you aren't sure you even know to ask? Great plan. The door opens swiftly - bringing you out of your thoughts instantly - as you take in the sight before you. A lanky brunette is leaning against the open door in a rather dismissive way, as she smirks at you knowingly. She has yet to acknowledge Cook, who is standing at your side awkwardly. She regards you for a short moment more, before consulting her wrist watch. She smiles to herself, before setting her stoic gaze upon you once more; and says two simple words that make your veins run cold as ice.

"Hello, Emily."

**Bit of a short, filler chapter. Some shit is about to go down, friends. Expect the pace to quicken next chapter. Also, I wanted you all to see a little bit into Effy's past, hope you don't mind. Depending on what you guys think, I could do a little more delving. Let me know!**

**Please drop a review? I know many of you are back at school, reading, shovelling snow; getting laid... all that good stuff! But some of us *hint hint* aren't and well, your reviews mean a lot :) **

**Thanks again, you're all incredibly messed up for reading and enjoying this mind fuck ;) *not as much as the writer, at least take comfort in THAT!* **

**xoV**

**PS I'm having an awful time trying to categorize this story in terms of genre... any of you much smarter people think you could help a homie out? Appreciate it!**


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